The Little Book of Harry Potter Fluff
by A Bit of Mystery
Summary: Sit down in your comfiest chair, pull out a box of chocolates, and get ready for my book of various Harry Potter fluff stories! If you have a favorite pairing, it'll be in here eventually, guaranteed. I'm currently taking suggestions for ships to write. Please read and enjoy! {Rated T because of my debilitating paranoia.} {Be warned: Much adorableness awaits you.}
1. Winter Warmth- Ron and Hermione

**Winter Warmth**

**Ron/Hermione**

_She needed to have a steady mind. After all, they were only alone for the night, then the rest of the Weasleys would be back and the house would be full again. She wouldn't have to be alone with that goddamned adorable Ronald Weasley._

* * *

Hermione Granger pitched forward as a snowball hit the back of her head. She turned on her heel. "Ron Weasley, I swear-"

Another snowball hit her neck. She angrily wiped it away with her coat sleeve and saw Ron doubled over laughing. She scooped up two handfuls of snow, and, smiling devilishly, murmured a spell. The snowballs leapt out of her hands and hurtled into Ron's face. He instantly looked up, his blue eyes suddenly wide and surprised. He tapped his foot and smirked. "So that's how you want to play it, huh, 'Mione? Okay!"

He whipped out his own wand and flicked it above Hermione's head, saying _Aguamenti Friguis _at the exact same time Hermione cast a Protecting Charm. The freezing water he poured above her bounced harmlessly away.

Ron cursed good-naturedly, and Hermione shivered. He strode over to her. "Should we get inside?"

Glancing up, she nodded. Heavy winds were beginning to howl, and all the weather reports had warned of the coldest, heaviest snow of the year. Ron stuck his hand in his pockets. "I'll cast a quick warming spell to last until we get back to Shell Cottage."

With a quick mutter, the two of them were instantly toasty. She smiled at Ron. "Let's go."

Ron rubbed his hands together. "Let's."

* * *

They got into the cottage just as the snow started to pound down and the winds picked up. Ron struggled to close the door as the wind beat on it outside. Hermione walked over and pushed it closed for him. He grinned sheepishly at her, and Hermione felt a wave of dizziness overcome her. His freckles were prominent, even in winter, and his smile was lopsided. His hair- well, his hair defied description. If Hermione could, she would just-

"Come on, I'll light a fire," Ron said, striding over to the little fireplace set in the wall. Hermione followed him, clearing her head. Even though it was just the two of them in the cottage, she needed to have a steady mind. After all, they were only alone for that night, then the rest of the Weasleys would be back and the house would be full again. She wouldn't have to be alone with that goddamned adorable Ronald Weasley.

She watched as he tapped the fireplace with his wand. _"Incendio."_

The wood remained dry.

"What happened?" he asked, hitting his wand against the fireplace. He said the spell again. Nothing.

"You're not doing it right," Hermione said critically. He glared at her with those clear eyes. "I am too doing it right."

"Then why isn't it lighting? Here, let me do it." She tapped the fireplace and said clearly, _"Incendio."_

Nothing happened. Ron smiled triumphantly. "See, I told you!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to glare. "Maybe it's the spell._ Succendo."_

The spell she cast, which should have instantly caused flames to erupt, merely produced a few weak sparks.

"What's wrong?" Ron was concerned now. Hermione glanced worriedly out at the snowstorm, biting her lip.

"You know, don't you?" Ron asked, poking her. "Why aren't our wands working?"

"It must be the cold. In extreme cold and extreme heat, the magic can dry up, leaving only some residual magic until the temperature clears up. We must have used up the last of it on the warming spell back outside."

"That doesn't happen. Wands can't be frozen," Ron said dismissively. Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me, but have _you _ever read_ A History of Magick and Wandlore_?"

"No, but I've seen the movie," Ron deadpanned. Hermione ignored him.

"We have to find some other way of staying warm."

"At least we still have electricity," Ron said, gesturing to the newly rigged up electric lights. Hermione had been there to help Arthur Weasley set them up. It was harder then it sounded, especially because he kept on trying to disassemble the lightbulbs.

As if on cue, the lights began to flicker on and off. Ron jumped back. "What's happening to the lights?"

"It's the snowstorm," Hermione sighed. "Power lines- they're what carry electricity to houses- get knocked down. Power goes out."

Suddenly, the lights went completely off and the house went essentially dark, except for the dusk light coming through the windows. Hermione heard a whisper.

"_Lumos."_

"Ron, our wands aren't working."

"Right."

Hermione thought quickly. Her fingers were beginning to tingle and feel numb. "Do you know if Bill and Fleur have any matches?"

She could see Ron's outline against the window as he walked over to her. "Are those the little stick things with the red tips?"

"Yes."

"I think they have some in the drawer beside the bookcase."

Hermione got up from her spot beside the fireplace and opened the drawer. Squinting to see, she could make out a small box. She pulled it out, but upon closer examination, it was empty. No- there was one small match inside.

"Didja find anything?" Ron called from across the room. She turned to look at him.

"Yes, one match. I'm going to try to light it."

They met at the fireplace. Hermione crouched down, the cold stones around the fireplace scratching at her palms. She flicked the match at the matchbox, and sat back in pleasure as a flame began to dance on the tip.

"Ron, can you get me a newspaper?"

Ron was back in a second, bringing a heap of old _Daily Prophets. _Hermione tossed them in the fireplace and lit them, watching in satisfaction as the stark black type got swallowed up by the fire. Ron was looking at her. If she were to look back at him, would she see the fire reflected in his summer-sea eyes?

She did. It was.

His eyes were dark and mysterious under his eyebrows. They were thrown into shade and light by the sunset outside and the fire beside them, and she could see the curve of his thin eyelashes.

"Um… we should put some more paper on, don't you think?" he asked, quickly and awkwardly breaking eye contact.

"Yeah," she agreed hurriedly, anxious to start the conversation up again. This fire wasn't good for her, it was giving her illusions. As soon as this blizzard was over, everything would be the same as normal. She and Ron would be friends and nothing more, and the Weasleys would come to Shell Cottage, and she wouldn't have to be staring at the owner of those beautiful ginger eyelashes.

* * *

"I'm cold," Ron complained. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"So am I. Maybe it's because we're stuck in a freezing house in the middle of a blizzard with only a blanket and a fire to keep us warm."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron said, with a smile in her direction. Hermione continued to warm her hands against the fire. She felt a pull on the bedsheet they were sharing, and a sudden chill. She looked over and saw that Ron was wrapped comfortably in the sheet.

"Ron!" she scolded, tugging it away from him. He pulled it back.

"I told you, I'm _cold."_

"You're absolutely insufferable!"

"That too."

"Give it back!"

"Can we trade off?"

"_No!"_

She gave the sheet a final tug, and the two of them tumbled back across the floor, Ron burritoed in the sheet. Hermione whipped it away from him and draped it around her shoulders like a cape. "Ha."

He pouted like a small child. "'Mione, please?"

"My fingers are numb." She proved her point by wrapping a fold of the blanket around her fists.

"So are mine," he pointed out, edging a little closer to her. He was close enough now that she could see those exasperatingly gorgeous lashes rimming those infuriatingly blue, blue eyes.

"My whole hand is numb." Her hand drifted across the dusty wooden floor towards his.

"Both of my hands are numb." His hand brushed hers, a tiny little spider's touch. Barely more than a flutter. She could see a warm blush on his freckled cheeks. She knew he wouldn't- she couldn't- they shouldn't-

He kissed her. Ronald Weasley, immature, snowball-thrower, bedsheet-stealer, joker, adorable. She kissed him.

It, Hermione reflected later, was stupid. A wishing-kiss, a kiss of a cold winter night when both of them were simply drunk on their alone-ness. But nevertheless, they were kissing and their lips fit somehow, like the Muggle jigsaw puzzles Ron could never figure out. And she was realizing the beauty of the cold and the magnificence of the winter and the loveliness of thin ginger eyelashes.


	2. Lily's Two Boys- James and Lily

**Lily's Two Boys**

**James/Lily**

_What in the almighty reign of Merlin does Lily see in that cat? If James was going to marry a witch with such bad taste in pets, maybe he should rethink his decision to get married._

* * *

"I'm so excited," Lily said happily, as she turned a corner onto a sunny, tree-lined driveway. James glanced over at her. The sun shone bright onto her cascading red hair, and her green eyes were bright and dancing.

"Me too," he said honestly. He looked over at her again. "It's just going to be you and me, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "James, for the fifth time, Petunia isn't going to be there. Neither will my parents. It'll be us, together, for three days. Well, us and Claude."

"Claude? Who the hell is Claude?"

His question was rewarded by another eye roll. "My cat. You've met him, right?"

"No. You always take Sedgewick to Hogwarts."

Sedgewick was Lily's owl, who was, in James's opinion, completely incompetent. James had found that out after he wrote a… _suggestive… _letter for Lily and sent it. That stupid owl accidentally delivered it to Madame Pomfrey. Needless to say, that resulted in embarrassment for all involved.

"Oh! Well, I've had Claude since third year. He's my boy. I can't wait for you two to meet!"

James pouted, half-fake and half-real. "I'm your boy, and I'm not about to be upstaged by a cat."

"Of course not," Lily said, smiling radiantly at him. She pulled into a driveway facing a small, charming Victorian house, complete with beautiful, verdant yard and cobblestone pathway. James stared.

"Wow, is this your house?" He was already surveying it with a Quidditch-player's eye, assessing the possibility of crashing into a tree or fence while practicing. Lily caught that look.

"James, this is a Muggle neighborhood. You aren't playing with your flying death stick in my backyard."

"God, Lily," he laughed, pulling her close as they got out of the car, "take a girl on a broomstick once and you're marked for life."

She shivered in his arms. "That was scary. We almost crashed."

"We did not!" James argued good-naturedly, pulling their trunks out of the boot of the car. "We did!" she protested, pulling the keys out of her pocket and leading him up to the front door. She unlocked it and stepped inside, James following her wonderingly. If the outside was charming, the inside was enchanting. Everything was creams and whites, with baby blues and canary yellow thrown into the mix. There was temptingly cozy wood-and-cotton furniture everywhere James turned. Putting down the trunks, he softly kissed Lily on the cheek. She hugged him. "I'm so glad you're finally here. This house is where I grew up, and I've always wanted you to see it."

"I know, I-"

Lily ran over to a hallway suddenly. "Hello, love!" she exclaimed. James walked over and saw a lean black-and-white cat rubbing up against Lily's ankles. A little put out at being interrupted, James bent down and asked, "Is this the famous Claude?"

The cat sprang away from Lily and James, hissing. She turned to glare at James, who shrugged innocently. She turned back to Claude, murmuring soothing words to him. James made a face at the cat over Lily's shoulder. The cat twitched his tail ominously.

Lily stood up, and so did James. She was cradling Claude like he was a baby. "James," she scolded, "Claude is very sensitive. Don't sneak up on him like that."

"Sensitive? He's a cat!"

"So?" Lily flared up. "What, do you have a thing against cats?"

James crossed his arms stubbornly. "I just… I'm a dog person, that's all."

Claude, as if sensing that, turned in Lily's arms and stretched out an innocent paw to Lily's chin. She swept it up as if Claude, not James, was her fiancé.

"See? He's a sweetheart, really. Here, you hold him." James was unwillingly passed an even more unwilling Claude, who instantly unsheathed his claws and scrabbled out of James's arms, streaking out into the hallway before Lily could even turn around.

"_Lily," _James whined. She gave him a stern look.

"Three days, James. You'll live."

* * *

James stared into the little bedroom. "Lil, there's only one twin bed in here."

Lily rocked nervously on her heels. "Yeah, I had an idea. You're going to sleep in this room with Claude, and I'm going to sleep in my old bedroom across the hall."

James gaped. "We're not sleeping in the same bedroom?"

Lily put her hands on her hips. "Do you have a problem?"

"Lil, we're going to be married. We're alone in this house, for three days _and three nights. _And you want me to sleep in the same room as your _cat?" _

"I know that you want to have sex, James."

"That's not-"

"Don't try to tell me that's irrevalent. You're sleeping in this bed, with Claude in his pet bed at the foot. Okay? Okay."

James crossed his arms. "No."

"James Zachary Potter, are you seriously going to refuse me this? It's three days, and I really, really, _really _want you to get to know Claude. He's an extremely smart cat, and I want you to understand each other."

James looked one last time at the bedroom, then turned to Lily. "Well, how can I refuse three really's?"

* * *

The night wind blew through the window as the black-and-white tomcat sat on the sill. James pulled the blankets of his (Lily-less) bed up abound his shoulders and shivered. The stupid cat had been sitting there by the open window for more then two hours, and the room was freezing. But James was too scared to get up and shoo Claude off so he could close the window. Instead, he froze slowly and relished thoughts of the cat losing his balance and falling three stories to the unforgiving ground. He shivered again as a particularly brutal breeze came through. _What in the almighty reign of Merlin does Lily see in that cat? _If James was going to marry a witch with such bad taste in pets, maybe he should rethink his decision to get married.

Claude swung his head over to stare at James. His green-grey eyes were passive and flat in the darkness, but James shuddered. "I don't like you," he whispered. The understatement of the century. Claude stared.

"I would kick you out of the room, except I don't want to disappoint Lily."

The cat jumped off his windowsill and onto the dresser drawer. James, relieved, rolled out of bed and slammed the window shut. Just as he had tucked himself back into his warm sheets, he heard an enormous crash. Whipping around, James saw first Claude, sitting on top of the dresser, looking extremely pleased with himself, and secondly his trunk, knocked violently off of the drawer, lying open on the floor. One of the hinges had broken, the top was hanging ajar, and all his clothes were spread across the floor. Claude licked his chest fur proudly.

"You bastard!" James whispered furiously. Striding back across the room, he snatched up Claude and tossed him outside. He slammed the door satisfactorily.

"There! And don't come back." Angry now, and wanting just to go to sleep, he slid back in bed and threw the pillow over his head.

Not even five minutes later, the yowling started. From the sound of it, Claude was sitting right in the hallway. In two seconds, James was throwing open the door. "You'll wake Lily!"

The cat darted in between his legs and leaped up on the bed, curling up on James's pillow. He tucked his nose in his fluffy tail, showing no intention of leaving. James stomped over and shoved Claude off. "Stay down there," he hissed, glaring down at Claude. The cat sat indignantly looking up at James.

James rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes.

He peeked back over the side of the bed. Claude was sitting indignantly looking up at him.

He ignored the cat, rolled over, and pulled up the sheets. A minute passed. Maybe two.

He glanced behind him. Claude was sitting indignantly looking up at him.

James bit his lip, steeled himself, and turned over. He inhaled, held it, exhaled, and shut his eyes. His pillow was warm and inviting. He was drifting off… but…

He rolled back over one more time. Claude was sitting indignantly, look-

"JUST GO TO SLEEP, YOU GODDAMNED CAT," he snapped. Claude tossed his head, primly sat up, and padded over to his pet bed. With a contemptuous look at James, he curled up and closed his eyes.

Still angry, James collapsed into his bed and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

"Lily, I swear, your cat hates me."

Lily, across the table from him, dipped her spoon in her cereal and looked at James dubiously. "I'm sure him knocking over your trunk was an accident."

"It wasn't, A, and B, what about all that other stuff? He wouldn't get off the windowsill, then he started yowling outside my door, and when I let him in, he sat on my pillow, and he was staring at me."

Lily arched an eyebrow. James put his head in his hands, then peeked up through his fingers. "It doesn't sound that bad when I say it, but it was. He has it in for me."

The cat himself pranced into the dining room where they were, making a beeline for the food bowl. James discreetly flipped him off under the table. Unfortunately, Lily saw.  
"James, come on! Why do you have a vendetta against my cat?"

James shrugged and sighed. Lily watched his eyes. He could tell she was angrypointed, his word for that terrible _look _she gave him, one part sad and one part annoyed and one part disappointed.

"I guess we can sleep in the same room tonight," she said, first glancing at the table then looking up at James. He suddenly got the feeling that he was being scolded, and a burning, iron knot of guilt settled in his stomach. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had a vendetta against Claude, for reasons no one knew.

"No, Lil, I'll sleep in the same room. With the cat. I'm sure I was just overreacting. Claude and I are fine," he reassured her, with much more bravado then he felt. She gave him a radiant smile. "That's amazing. And guess what? We'll be spending all day together."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, pushing her chair away from the table, putting the bowl in the sink, and stopping by the front door. "C'mon, we're going!"

"Now?" James asked, also standing. She nodded. With a regretful glance at his unfinished eggs, but also anticipation at a full day of adventuring with Lily, he followed her out the door.

* * *

James didn't know if there was such a thing as perfection, but he did know that that day out with Lily seemed perfect. They started out by driving to a coffeeshop theater because Lily found out that James, being from a wizarding family, had never seen an animated film. She immediately turned the car around and brought him to what she called "the most adorable place ever." James, once they arrived, had to admit that it was adorable. It was a small building, and it was a coffeeshop converted into a half-open theater. There was a little screen and a bunch of pillows lying around that you could sit on. Natural light shone through the windows and sparkled off of the glass cups sitting on shelves. You could make yourself some coffee while watching. They were showing _Dumbo _that day, which was one of Lily's favorites. James had expected it to be a kid's movie. Maybe kinda cute. After all, it was about a cartoon elephant.

It was much more than that. He cried. Lily hugged him at the end, as the credits rolled. She rubbed his back soothingly as he buried his face in her shoulder. "No," he choked out, "but Dumbo's mother…"

"I know, I know. It can be hard to swallow," she murmured. She stood and reached down to help him up. "We'll go to the park next." He took her hand and stood, blinking and smiling at her through his watery eyes. She squeezed his hand in hers. "Come on."

"Hey, are there any more animated movies we could watch?" he asked as they walked out, hand in hand, into the sunlight.

"Oh, yeah. And there's one set to come out in a couple years about a mermaid. We could see that when it shows."

"Awesome! Er… I mean… if you want to."

Lily grinned. "Sure thing."

* * *

When they burst through the door of Lily's house, laughing and talking animatedly, James had forgotten about Claude altogether. So when he launched himself at James's pant leg as soon as they got inside, it was a surprise. James hollered out in pain and shook his leg around frantically. The cat's claws stuck fast. Lily didn't panic, but instead bent calmly down and lifted Claude off. As soon as Claude was safely away from him, James gasped as though he had just been brought back from the brink of death.

"That's a demon cat! I told you!"

Lily waved him off, inspecting his leg for damage. She looked up at him after fingering the small holes in his jeans. "He's just skittish because we've been away all day. He gets like that sometimes."

James was too angry to be comforted. "No, he has it in for me! I swear, Lily, he has it in for me!"  
"If you want to sleep away from him tonight, the offer still stands."

"Yes! Yes, I want to sleep as far away from that cat as I can!" James snapped, turning toward the closet and pulling off his coat. As he hung it up, he was vaguely aware of Lily's sad gaze on his back. He looked over at his shoulder at her. Her hair hung in a shimmery red curtain around her heart-shaped face, and her green eyes were sad. _We had such a good day, _they seemed to say. Guiltily, James hugged her. "I didn't mean it," he whispered in her ear. "I'll stick it out, I promise."

She was about to say something, but he pulled back. "On one condition!"

Lily grimaced, expecting the worst. "What?"

He swept her back into his arms. "That we spend what's left of the evening together."

They did. Making sure the shades were pulled down (to prevent bothersome Muggles seeing), they had charming contests to see who could be the first to turn all the silverware in the silverware drawer yellow, then change them back. Lily won. Then they went outside and looked at the stars. It was lovely until it began to rain. Lily offered to get an umbrella, and James said yes, just because he wanted an excuse to cuddle with Lily. He told her that, when they were inside drying off, and she laughed and said that he didn't need an excuse to cuddle with her. So they made kettle-corn and curled up on the couch and watched reruns of _I Love Lucy_. Claude, surprisingly well-behaved, sat on Lily's lap and ate the pieces of kettle-corn she fed him. He only glared at James once or twice.

It was, James was sure, a perfect day if there ever was one. Except for that one incident with Claude, and really, who could expect a day without a single bump?

Of course, that perfection didn't last forever. But the next bad thing that happened happened around 2 o'clock the next morning, so James's day with Lily really was as perfect as he thought.

* * *

He woke up to a heavy weight on his chest. His first thought was _Lily, _and he sat up. Claude tumbled off his chest onto the bedsheets. James looked around. He was in the same room he had slept in last night. Since he had put his trunk back together, nothing was knocked onto the floor. Nothing was broken. He registered that the only thing out of the ordinary was that Claude had been lying on top him, and he lied down. As he did so, he realized that his t-shirt felt kind of… odd. Sticky. Dreading what he was going to see, he slowly looked down and saw a small grey shape that sharpened into a body. A body of a mouse. It wasn't too bloody- at least that's what James told himself- but nevertheless, it was disgusting. With fingers as gentle as tweezers, he picked up the dead mouse, and saw the two bite marks in its flank. Claude, he noticed, looked proud. _Look what I brought you. It's a gift- take it._ James started to breathe faster as he stared at the little body in his hands. It wasn't Claude's right to take that mouse's life. He thought of Lord Voldemort, so far away now, and Dumbledore, fighting battles that they knew wouldn't be without casualties. Not caring about stepping quietly, James carried the mouse downstairs and outside, into the backyard. It wasn't raining anymore, but water was dripping from the trees. One landed on his cheek. One, two. One, two, three. But if they were raindrops, then why did they taste salty?

He buried it. It wasn't as hard as it sounded, really, just a couple handfuls of wet earth and a hole was made. On top of the grave, he stuck a tiny leaf. He didn't know why, but it looked right.

James Potter took one last look and went inside.

He knew he was being an idiot, but he felt like he couldn't stay in the same room as Claude anymore. Not just because Claude hated him, but also because he killed a mouse. He could hear Lily's voice; _He's a cat, James. That's what cats do. They kill mice, it's an instinct. He gave it to you as a sign of respect._

That, frankly, was bullscheiss.

Still, James reined in all the anger and suspicion he had at Lily's cat. This was a stupid thing. He was a cat, for Merlin's sake. James could ignore him. He went to sleep.

The next thing James woke up to was Claude, again, lying on his chest. Shoving him roughly off, James checked around his bed for anything dead. Nothing, except a little spider he found under the mattress. Claude watched him with innocent eyes, seeming to say, _Why are you so crazy, James? What in the almighty reign of Merlin does Lily see in you?_

James flopped back in bed. He stared back at Claude, feeling like he was going insane. Crying over the body of a mouse, imagining a cat was talking, checking his bedroom for dead animals. Wasn't that something about the first sign of madness?

The cat got up from James's bed, stretched leisurely, and padded over to James. James halfheartedly pushed him away, but Claude came right back. "Stop it. I don't like you," James whispered. He rolled over in bed, the sheets draped over his legs. and studied the ceiling. "I don't like you, and you don't like me. But here's the thing. Lily likes you, and Lily likes me." He paused and looked over at the cat, who was watching James intently. "And I like Lily- I love Lily, and I think somewhere in that cold, dark hole that you call a heart, you do too."

The cat didn't react, but James took that as an invitation to go on. "I don't like cats, either. I hate cats. Do you want to know why?"

He scooched over to Claude like they were bedmates at a sleepover. "My mum and dad had a cat. They called her Lorelei, and I loved her so, so much. But one day she scratched me under the eye. I had to go to the hospital. So I hate cats."

Claude was unmoved. James rolled back over. "I'm a dog person, I guess."

"Well, that's flawed logic."

James sat up and saw Lily leaning against the doorframe. He leapt out of bed, mortified. "L- Lil! Why are you up?"

"I heard someone stomping down the stairs, and came to investigate."

James blushed deeply, from his thick black mane to his bare feet. "Oh. I- um…"

Lily laughed. She took a few steps towards James and embraced him. "You're so cute," she said into his shoulder. "You act all swaggery and stubborn, but really you're a sweetheart."

"I am not," he insisted, trying not to be hypnotized by her auburn hair tickling his arm.  
She nuzzled his chin. "Right, you're not." She pulled away from him, her clear green eyes observing James. "Are you all right? I had no idea you felt so strongly about Claude."

"I don't," James said, making eye contact somewhat awkwardly. "I just… it's late. And I really want Claude to like me." He hadn't really realized that until he said it, but it was true.

"You don't have to win him over. I wanted you two to get along, and if that means you can talk to him without him scratching you, that's fine with me."

"Really?"

"Of course."

She embraced him again. "James?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"You're going to be a father!"

It has been said by Muggles who lived around there that at around 3:00 AM, there was a shout of joy from the house on 32 Rosemere Avenue. Birds nesting in the maple trees that lined the street flew away. And James Potter and Lily Evans, before just fiances, were now parents.


End file.
